


My Darkest Secret, My Biggest Regret

by magsforya



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 17:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5135603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magsforya/pseuds/magsforya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Chris and Darren come together, they learn more and more about each other. Chris, however, is more willing to share the gritty details of his past. But when Darren finally opens up, it's not what Chris was expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Darkest Secret, My Biggest Regret

**Author's Note:**

> Completely unbetaed.
> 
> Reblog on [Tumblr](http://magsforya.tumblr.com/post/132450046434/my-darkest-secret-my-biggest-regret)

                “I want you to tell me your deepest, darkest secret,” Chris says lightly, slowly swinging back and forth on the old swingset in the playground. His feet are still on the ground, and really, he’s just rocking.

                He’s known Darren for a few months, and their friendship very quickly spiraled into something _more_ , something that they’re exploring now. Something that involves hanging out just the two of them, sharing kisses, holding hands. It’s pretty awesome.

                “I’ve had people leave me for that,” Darren grins, swinging sideways so he can bump into Chris. “Tell me yours.”

                Chris takes a moment to think about that. Darren’s a funny guy and Chris wants to impress him. He’s slowly realizing that he doesn’t have to work too hard to do that, that just being himself is enough to make Darren trip over his own words and blush. But still, Chris can’t stop _trying_. He likes Darren a lot. He wants Darren to like him back, too.

                So, something funny, to make him laugh. Darren’s incredibly gorgeous when he laughs. His eyes squint and his cheeks redden, and sometimes he throws his head back, or even down, and he’ll shake his head as if he can’t keep still.

                “I once dated a Professor,” Chris decides on. He thinks the comedy in it is that it’s true—completely true. And it’s something Darren doesn’t know. So it’s a conversation starter.

                “Please tell me you got an A,” Darren grins.

                “No,” Chris laments, feigning disappointment. “A B. But trust me, we didn’t date much after that.”

                “Oh, I can imagine not,” Darren replies. “Was he old and grey?”

                “He was not grey!” Chris is quick to throw back.

                “Oh my god,” Darren laughs. “You dated an old guy! You are _so_ into older men!”

                “No!” Chris replies, stopping his swinging and pointing an accusatory finger at Darren. “No, I am not!”

                “You totally are,” Darren smiles, shaking his head. “Old, wrinkly men.”

                “You’re not wrinkly,” Chris quips.

                “I’m not old!” Darren laughs, jaw dropping.

                “Older than me,” Chris says.

                “You’re mean,” Darren replies. “ _Meeeaaaannnn_. Twenty-five is not old!”

                “Cheer up, Old Man. At least you know I’ll love you when you walk with a cane and need help wiping.”

                “ _Meaaannnn_ ,” Darren grumbles, unable to keep the twinkle out of his eyes.

* * *

 

                It’s three months later and they’ve definitely moved on from _exploring what they are_ to being in an actual relationship. Chris doesn’t have to try as hard to make Darren laugh, and they’re learning how to settle into this new relationship. They don’t have to try and impress each other anymore, they don’t have to go on dates as often. They can just hang out, enjoy the silence, be in the same room without being on top of each other. They can coexist.

                It’s what they’re doing now. Chris was craving cookies, and Darren was fine with catering to Chris’ will.

                “So what’s your biggest regret?” Chris asks. He’s mixing the batter together while Darren cleans up the workspace and gets the baking sheets ready for Chris.

                “I’ve had people walk away after hearing that,” Darren says casually as he wipes the counter free of flower and sugar. “What about yours?”

                It’s not like Chris hasn’t ever thought about it. He sort of expected Darren to ask him, too, in return.

                “I wasn’t always very nice to my family,” he settles on.

                “I don’t believe that,” Darren says. He sets the baking trays on the counter next to Chris and then leans against the countertop.

                “I was a very angsty teenager,” Chris supplies.

                He dips his finger into the oatmeal chocolate chip cookies and extends it towards Darren. Darren leans forward and sucks Chris’ finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before popping off.

                “Yum,” he says. “Tell me more? About what you mean.”

                Chris takes a moment to consider it. It’s… _a lot_. But he trusts Darren, and he thinks that it might be okay to finally open up to him and show Darren his bad sides.

                “I was very selfish as a teenager. Except I didn’t see it that way at the time.” Chris begins scooping tiny chunks of dough onto the baking sheets as he speaks. “And my parents…they’re—they’re great people. But w-we’re very different. And I just wanted _so much_ , and they couldn’t give it to me.”

                “How do you mean?” Darren asks softly.

                “I thought I was older than I was. I was very mature for my age, and everyone knew it. But I thought that my maturity should correlate to m-m-my privileges—what I was allowed to do, y’know? My parents would drive me to LA for auditions once a month, but I felt that I should have been allowed to just go on my own. That I was mature enough to take a week off of school and spend it in a hotel in LA. Or that my parents were beneath me. That they were too small minded and I was larger than my town. So we’d get into a lot of fights because I felt that they were holding me back. I blamed them for _everything_. Honestly, _everything_. And it wasn’t until I was older and I’d left Clovis and I grew up a bit that I realized how horrible I was to them when they weren’t actually horrible to me at all. They were doing their best. I mean, I-I-I’m much different than they are, so I don’t think they knew how to handle me? And I exploited that.”

                Chris opens up the oven and puts the two cookie sheets in before closing it and turning around, facing Darren. He shrugs, not quite sure if there’s anything left to say. He tries to take note of the atmosphere and if it’s changed, tries to gauge Darren’s response.

                “That sounds like it was tough on you, you’re childhood,” Darren replies neutrally.

                “Not any harder than anyone else’s. Teen angst gets around,” Chris jokes, but it falls flat when Darren doesn’t laugh. He just purses his lips as his gaze wanders.

                “I know a little bit about that,” he says quietly—seriously—before refocusing his attention back on Chris. “How long until the cookies are done?”

                Chris is startled for a moment, not quite sure what happened. He wants to ask Darren to elaborate, maybe get him to open up in kind, but the moment has passed and Chris doesn’t want to push.

                “Oh! Uhm. I forgot to-to-to set the timer. Uhm. Probably fifteen minutes? Maybe we’ll check in ten just to make sure?”

                “Perfect,” Darren says, his mood reverting back to light and airy. “Quick make out on the couch?” he smiles.

                Chris lets himself get dragged, though not at all unwillingly, to the couch. After a quick make out session, Chris completely forgets about any awkwardness that may or may not have been present earlier.

* * *

 

                They can’t have sex that night because Chris ran out of condoms and Darren doesn’t have one in his wallet.

                They’ve been dating a little over a year, and though they are completely monogamous and have both been tested—several times—Darren has a few quirks. Condoms are one of them.

                He had explained it to Chris a few times, and basically it all boils down to protection.

                “One time, that’s all it takes,” Darren always says. Or, “It’s not about trust. It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s more about what makes _me_ comfortable.”

                So if there are no condoms, then there is no sex. At least, not penetrative. Darren is always up for handjobs, and Chris had put his foot down about blowjobs. He did _not_ want to have to suck a lubed up rubber every time he wanted to suck a dick.

                Darren seemed totally fine with all of that. But if there was a dick in his ass, then it sure as hell better be a wrapped up one. Though Chris lamely protests on occasion—like when they run out of condoms and he’s horny—he’s okay with Darren’s caveat. Condoms make the clean-up quicker and easier, anyway, and it makes Darren more comfortable. A more comfortable Darren equals much better sex.

                So tonight they can’t have sex. Darren does give Chris a truly fantastic blow job, though, one that Chris returns. After that they choose to go for a walk downtown and see if they can find some late night grub places. Chris is craving a milkshake.

                “Have you ever made any big mistakes in your life?” Chris asks idly.

                He’s thought about this a lot. He’s doing well for himself in LA, he’s acting steadily and he’s making enough money to not only live off of, but to live _well_. To save, to go on a yearly vacation. But he’s not at the level he wants to be. He still works his ass off to get roles, he still gets turned down for way more roles than he actually gets. And nothing is handed to him. Everything he books he does through auditions.

                “Doesn’t everyone?” Darren asks, linking their fingers.

                “I mean like, something big. Something life altering,” Chris replies.

                “I’m not quite sure what you mean,” Darren admits.

                “When I was eighteen I booked this role for a TV show. My first ever real gig. Primetime show on a major network.”

                “Yeah?” Darren says, seeming impressed.

                “Yeah,” Chris nods. “Except I turned it down.”

                “Why?” Darren asks.

                “I was still coming into myself. I knew I was gay, and I was okay with it—or at least, I thought I was. But it was this role playing a really flamboyant gay teenager, and I didn’t know if I was ready for that. It was a musical TV show, and I was playing a gay high schooler who loves to sing. I ended up booking a few other things at the same time; smaller things, like commercials and minor roles. But I took them instead.”

                “Do you regret it?” Darren asks as they turn the corner. The streets are busy, though not extremely dense. There are a lot of people leaving restaurants and grabbing drinks, just enjoying the atmosphere of a Thursday night in Los Angeles.

                “I don’t know,” Chris replies. “The show got cancelled halfway through the first season I think? I sometimes wonder if it was _me_ instead of that other guy playing this character, that maybe it would have done better. Or that maybe more doors would have opened for me.”

                “Maybe more doors would have closed,” Darren shrugs, obviously trying to play peacemaker.

                “Maybe,” Chris says. “What about you—any big regrets? Any mistakes?”

                “Everyone makes mistakes. But I try not to dwell on them,” Darren replies easily.

                “So there are things you wish you could change about your life?” Chris pushes. Darren is normally very open about his emotions and his thoughts. But occasionally talking with him can be like pulling teeth. Chris hasn’t quite figured out why, though.

                “Of course,” Darren says, as if the answer is obvious. “But I can’t change the past. And I’m very happy with who I am now. With where I am. With who I’m with,” he squeezes Chris’ hand for emphasis. “So why think back on things I want to forget about anyway.”

                Chris ponders that for a moment, bouncing his head slowly back and forth as he thinks.

                “You’re right. Wasted time, wasted energy, wasted thought. Can’t change the past.”

                “Exactly,” Darren says. “But you know what we can change?”

                “Hmm?”

                “The present. Cause I see an ice cream shop over there, and I have a hunch that they sell milkshakes.”

                Chris laughs and leans into Darren a bit.

                “You’re my favorite,” he says, kissing Darren’s shoulder.

                He picks up his speed and jets off to the ice cream shop, practically dragging Darren with him.

* * *

 

                Darren’s twenty-eighth birthday is a night to remember. It’s spectacular, and it’s loud. It’s fun and it’s crazy. There are so many people there, crammed into Darren’s brother’s house that Chris can hardly see through the crowds. He gets spectacularly drunk, which was not his intention at all, and practically passes out before the party is over. But then his best friend Ashley shoves some caffeine at him and lures him back into the crowd, and Chris is able to power through his drunken exhaustion.

                Darren doesn’t fare as well, but Chris didn’t know that at the time. He was too drunk to take care of Darren, so that job got passed onto someone else.

                Chris and Darren spent the next few days laughing at all of the pictures that their friends uploaded to Facebook or texted them.

                Turning twenty-eight is a big deal for Darren, but Darren doesn’t exactly explain why. Chris feels it, though.

                While things between them are serious, they seem to get even _more_ serious. They’ve been dating for three years, and Darren seems to feel like they’ve breached this important ‘ _moment’_ that shouldn’t be overlooked.

                Chris takes it all in stride. He’s very comfortable with Darren, and while he’s not ready for marriage, he doesn’t think that Darren is either. Nevertheless, he wouldn’t mind putting down more concrete roots down with Darren.

                “I feel like I know everything about you,” Darren says one night in bed. They’re lounging around in sweatpants on Darren’s bed about a month after his birthday, enjoying a quiet night in. Chris is reading and Darren is sort of just sitting next to him, twiddling his thumbs and minding his own business—occasionally playing with his phone

                “You probably do,” Chris replies. “I feel like I know everything about you, too.”

                “That’s the thing,” Darren replies seriously. “You don’t.”

                “Hmm?” Chris says, putting his book down and pushing his glasses back onto his nose.

                “You don’t know everything about me,” Darren admits, almost guiltily. He’s not looking at Chris.

                “So what is it that I don’t know?” Chris asks matter of fact.

                “My deepest, darkest secret. My biggest regret. That one mistake I made that I still can’t get over.”

                Darren’s not speaking quietly. His voice is gravelly, the way it gets when he wants to cry but he doesn’t have any tears in him.

                “Do you…want to tell me?” Chris ventures.

                “People have left me over this,” Darren says seriously, like a warning. _Stop now or else you might not want to be with me anymore_.

                “I won’t leave you,” Chris assures, and he puts his hand on top of Darren’s.

                Darren shakes it off and immediately stands up next to the bed, looking at Chris.

                “You don’t know that, Chris,” he says loudly. “People have actually _left_ me. They’ve broken up with me. This isn’t—this isn’t small.”

                “It’s your biggest regret?” Chris asks—wants to make sure.

                Darren nods. “And it’s so…it’s so beyond the scope of anything. This isn’t…god,” Darren sighs, rubbing his hand through his hair, making it messy. “I don’t even know how to say this.”

                “Just say it,” Chris says. He wants to stand up, but he doesn’t think that he should. He doesn’t think that it will help anything. He thinks that maybe Darren needs the space and the freedom to walk around and not be blocked by Chris.

                “I don’t want to make it seem like your regrets aren’t big. Or that they’re not important. Because they are. They so are. But this isn’t…Chris…this isn’t me being an angsty teenager, okay? Or turning down a job, or being mean to someone.”

                “Then what is it?” Chris asks calmly.

                Darren huffs and pushes his hand through his head one more time as he looks around his room. He walks over to his desk and opens up the bottom drawer. Chris never goes in it—never has a reason to. In all of the years he’s known Darren, the bottom drawer of Darren’s rarely used desk is the last place he’d ever need to rifle through.

                Darren comes back with two pictures, and he drops them carefully onto Chris’ lap.

                They’re not well taken care of, and very clearly looked at often. Chris can tell that they’ve been bent and folded, there are fingerprint smudges, and while they’re worn with age they are still very clear. The images are crisp.

                One is just a baby. Chris assumes it’s a boy since there’s a blue cap on the baby’s head, and he’s swaddled tightly and crying, his face scrunched up in apparent misery.

                The next one has Darren in it. He’s wearing a red sweater and he has a bushy head of curls. In his arms is the baby. At least, Chris assumes it’s the same baby. Darren isn’t looking at the camera. Instead he’s bent over the child in his arms, his face close to the child’s. Chris doesn’t know if he’s leaning in for a kiss, or just pulling away from one.

                “Who is it?” Chris asks conversationally, still trying to fit the puzzle pieces together.

                “That’s my son,” Darren says. He almost sighs it out, like there’s no energy left in his body. Like he’s been coiled up so tightly for so long and someone just unspun him and he can finally breathe.

                “Your—your what?” Chris asks, looking at the pictures again.

                “He’s my son,” Darren repeats, standing next to Chris and looking down at the pictures.

                “I-I-I don’t understand,” Chris says. He can’t even look up at Darren, too enraptured in these pictures.

                “My biggest regret,” Darren says, voice gone raw, and Chris sees the tear drops drop onto the bed spread, so he looks up. “My deepest, darkest secret.”

                “Dare, I d-d-don’t…I don’t understand,” Chris says, at a loss for words. “Where is he?”

                “I don’t even know,” Darren says. And now the tears are falling freely, but Darren doesn’t do anything to stop them or wipe them away. He just keeps looking at those two pictures. “I don’t even know, Chris. Those are the only two pictures I have of him. Do you even know what that’s like? To have a son out there that you know nothing about—“

                “What do you mean?” Chris asks almost frantically. Darren keeps speaking with a sense of urgency, but Chris still isn’t getting the whole story. Chris prefers to be told things in order: beginning, middle, then end. Darren has always been a bit carefree about the way he relays information, and it’s never been more unhelpful than at this very moment.

                “I don’t even know his _name_ ,” Darren sobs. He leans down then, putting his head in Chris’ lap, and Chris can’t think to do anything but comfort Darren, so he begins rubbing his back and his head while Darren cries.

                “I don’t even know his _name_ ,” Darren repeats. “We gave him one, y’know? We gave him a name, but we knew that it wouldn’t last. And now I don’t even know where he is. They won’t _tell_ us. It was—completely closed. We picked out a family and just handed him over. And that was it. I don’t even know if he’s _alive_.”

                Chris doesn’t know how to comprehend what he’s hearing. He doesn’t quite understand how he should start coping with it. His boyfriend is a father, except he’s not. He has a son, except he doesn’t.

                “Darren, baby, _please_ ,” Chris whines, trying to pull Darren up and onto the bed. Darren does, albeit mechanically.

                “I’ve had people leave me over this,” Darren says. He’s not sobbing anymore, but there are tear tracks all down his face and he looks like a wreck. His eyes are swollen, his whole face is red.

                “I’m not going to leave you,” Chris promises. “I just don’t understand.”

                “It’s such a cliché,” Darren sniffles. “Knocked up some girl from a different school on her prom night. She didn’t want an abortion, but I wanted one _so bad_. Neither of us wanted to raise a baby. We didn’t even like each other much. I went away to college, we never really talked except occasionally, to talk about adoption and pick out families. I came back to San Francisco a few times to interview couples, and for the birth. I haven’t…I haven’t spoken to her since. We talked a few months after it happened. We got together over winter break and we cried and had sex and cried again, and that was that.”

                Darren looks down at the pictures with heartbreak, his fingers grazing over the picture of his son crying.

                “Do you know what it’s like to not even know your son’s name?”

                Chris is at a complete and total loss for words, so he just places his hands on Darren’s crossed legs.

                “So now you know it,” Darren says, “After all these years. My darkest secret. My biggest regret.”

                They don’t talk much the rest of the night. They don’t sleep. The two pictures stay on the bed where Darren spends hours looking at them and touching them, holding them to his heart and crying.

               

 

               

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reblog on [Tumblr](http://magsforya.tumblr.com/post/132450046434/my-darkest-secret-my-biggest-regret)
> 
> I don't think I can adequately explain how important comments are to me, and how happy, fulfilled, and appreciated they make me feel.


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